


Some Rainy Day

by sg_wonderland



Series: Days series [9]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: Daniel is under the weather.





	

As soon as I walked over, I knew something was wrong. It could have been the way Daniel was curled up in his chair, hand idly playing with the computer mouse. It could have been the way he had his jacket on backwards, covering his chest, pulled up to his chin. It could have been the fact that Daniel had spoken a grand total of maybe four words since I picked him up after school.

All I know is that something is wrong with my kid. “Hey, what’s up?” I lean down and kiss the soft curls, making a mental note to get him a haircut shortly.

Daniel rolls his eyes straight up without moving any more than absolutely necessary. “Playing.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re doing much. You okay?”

“Tired.”

My hand automatically reaches for his forehead, frowning. Daniel does seem a bit warm. Maybe he’s just tired. He’s only been in school two months and it has been a hell of an adjustment for all of us, especially Daniel. After all, he’s been thrust unwillingly into an education system that he loathed the first time around.

Plus it is coming up on one year since Daniel’s life was changed forever. It was all bound to leave him stressed out. “Good thing tomorrow’s Saturday, huh?” Wonder if I can re-arrange my schedule so I wouldn’t have to go into the mountain at all? “How about you get ready for bed? I know it’s early, but you don’t have to actually go to bed, just have your bath and get into your jammies, okay?” 

He obediently hops down and drags himself up the steps. I follow slowly, telling myself not to panic just because Daniel hadn’t protested. The kid was probably just tired. That doesn’t stop me from scooping him up and carrying him the rest of the way. I try to convince myself that his not objecting didn’t bother me either.

I don’t believe myself.

*

My schedule can’t be re-arranged so I end up dropping Daniel off at the daycare and reluctantly leaving him. His night’s sleep hadn’t seemed to do him any good; he was still draggy, lethargic, quiet. So I make several command decisions, delegate what I can and reschedule what I can’t, and rush through everything else so that I can get back to Daniel as soon as possible.

Fraiser’s assessment when I buzzed her was that Daniel was probably just tired. Although he did have a slight fever and a bit of a sore throat, that could be anything from allergies to the bugs that always seemed to be floating around the school system. Even private school, apparently, isn’t immune to germs.

“Keep an eye on him, Jack. If the fever persists, the temp goes above, say, 101, call me. I can give him something until Chi can see him on Monday.”

*

“Ready to go home?” Daniel’s reply is a nod before he follows me out of the daycare to the truck. “So, what sounds good for lunch? Want to go out?”

“Not hungry.” Daniel settles himself in the booster, pulling the seat belt around for me to fasten.

“Gotta eat something, kid. How about Chinese? Soup?” That gets a nod so I call our favorite Chinese take-out and place the order.

*

Soup is about all I can get Daniel to swallow, although I had a stroke of genius and dished up some ice cream, his universal favorite. I try not to get alarmed when the biggest part of his bowl is left uneaten. Or when Daniel declines to play on the computer, opting instead for the couch, a quilt and the remote. After the most basic clean up, I hurry back to the living room where I settle him down with his head in my lap.

“So, what are we watching?”

“Hockey.”

My attention perks up. “Really? You like hockey?”

“No, I just don’t feel like fighting you for the remote.”

I rub the baby-soft cheek. “Appreciate that.”

*

Daniel doesn’t seem any better this morning. But then, he doesn’t seem any worse. I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It has been awhile since I’ve been responsible for a child this age. Come to think of it, I’ve never been responsible; Sarah had done most of the parenting. Thankfully I’m really not alone. I’ve got the parents, Fraiser on call, Carter and Teal’c and even the general would come if I truly needed them.

And speaking of my mother. She’s been badgering me by phone, in full-out grandmother mode, convinced I don’t have a clue how to deal with a sick child.

I’ve already called and alerted the general that I might not be in tomorrow, depending on how Daniel feels and whether I can get him in to see Chi. Fraiser hadn’t been overly concerned about Daniel’s fever, even after I reminded her that Daniel had had his tonsils out when he was six and this wasn’t his first sore throat. She logically replied that was no indication that history would repeat itself.

Consequently, I spend most of our Sunday pampering Daniel. Letting him sleep late, eat what he wanted, which isn’t much, watch what he wanted on television, which also isn’t much. I decline all offers of company, not wanting to expose anyone else to Daniel’s germs or vice versa. It took a tremendous amount of persuasion to keep my mother away; I keep expecting her to just show up.

*

Monday finds me calling Chi’s office, the nurse agreeing that Daniel needs to be seen and that they would try to work him in. So I bundle Daniel up and we land in the pediatrician’s office where I find myself sharing concerned looks with several other worried parents. Seeing other sick kids doesn’t really alleviate my fears, especially since Daniel seems so lifeless, lying in my arms.

“Open up, Daniel, and let’s have a look at that throat. Hurts, doesn’t it? We’ll do a throat swab for strep, just in case. Antibiotics and you’ll need to keep him out of school and away from daycare for the rest of the week. Rest and plenty of liquids. If his fever persists or the antibiotics don’t seem to be working, call me and we’ll try something else. His tonsils are pretty inflamed.”

“Are you thinking about taking them out?” Daniel is plastered to my side.

“Let’s see what the strep test says. Normally, I’d say no, he’s only had a couple of sore throats this past year. But like I said, the tonsils look pretty bad. We’ll look at all our options first. I promise you, Daniel, we won’t even think about surgery unless I think it’s in your best interests, okay?” He smiles at Daniel’s nod. “Now, go home, take your medicine and get some rest.”

*

I now have an entirely different problem; I have a child who can’t go to school or daycare for a week. And I can’t take the week off, can’t really see explaining to the Pentagon that I can’t go play off-world because Daniel has a sore throat. I can’t take him to the mountain; no one would appreciate being exposed. With a sense of impending doom, I do what I really didn’t want to do, hadn’t wanted to do; I admit defeat and call my mother.

“Jack, of course, we’d love to look after Daniel. That’s what we moved here for.” Her enthusiasm makes me wince.

“Thanks, Mom, I don’t know what I would have done.” I brace myself for the lecture, surprised when it doesn’t come.

“You’d have worked something out. Tell Daniel we’ll be over there to see him before he goes to sleep.” I had worried that she and Dad would have problems adjusting to the move, but it’s been good so far. They’ve made some friends so Daniel isn’t their only focus. 

“And me, too?” I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling, certainly not me.

“Of course, Jack.” Her voice has just a hint of laughter.

“Love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, dear.” 

Hanging up, I turn to Daniel. “Grandma and Grandpa are going to come and take care of you while I go to work.” I admit to being a bit worried about leaving Daniel for a week. “You know you can always call me or Dr. Fraiser any time you need us, right?” 

“It’s okay, Jack.” Daniel shrugs off my concern; it’s not like he isn’t used to looking after himself.   
*

Despite his best attempts, Daniel is sound asleep when Mom and Dad arrive. She simply ignores me and slips into the room to see for herself how Daniel is, kissing his forehead before easing the door closed.

“Jack, he has a fever.”

“I know, Mom, the doc said if the antibiotics don’t knock it back in a couple of days, we may have to try something else.”

“How were his tonsils? Oh, thank you, dear.” She sips the coffee Dad hands her before relaxing on the couch.

“Pretty bad, actually. Chi said he’d know the results of the strep tomorrow. I’ll call and see what he thinks. He mentioned taking Daniel’s tonsils out.”

“Poor little fellow, he’s had such a rough time.” Dad sympathizes.

“Yeah, it’s just one thing after another for him.”

*

I finally snatch a moment to call Dr. Chi. “Colonel, I’m glad you called. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Sorry, I was in a meeting, couldn’t be helped. What’s the verdict?”

“The strep test was positive.”

“Daniel has strep?”

“Looks like. How is he? Fever down?”

“No, actually, he still has a fever. Pretty tired, quiet, says his throat still hurts.”

“We probably need to think about taking his tonsils out. I don’t think we can afford to wait until this turns into something worse. Can you bring him in?”

“My folks are home with him. Is it alright if they bring him? I can try to get free, but I don’t honestly know how long it’s going to take me.”

“No, that’s fine, have them bring him, I just want to get another look at him before we make a decision.”

*

Daniel has already been to the doctor and back by the time I fight work, the traffic and the rain to make it home. “Mom,” I peel my dripping coat off in the hallway. “How’s Daniel?”

“Dr. Chi wants you to call him back. He wants to schedule Daniel for surgery as soon as possible. The antibiotics aren’t working well enough.” Mom takes my coat, hangs it up. “Why don’t you go up and see him first?”

I stop at the door at the sight of my father on the bed with a tear-stained Daniel sprawled across him. “Hey, how’s my boy?”

“Not too lively, I’m afraid, son. He wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting his tonsils out.”

I help Dad slide out from under before we settle him under the covers. “I’m not nuts about it either. I’m just on my way to call Chi, see what we can schedule.”

*

Chi’s nurse has the arrangements already made. “Dr. Kathy Young will actually be doing the surgery. She’s very good, specializes in pediatric surgery. I’ll have Bonnie email you the information you’ll need. Check-in at the hospital will be much easier if you can go over sometime tomorrow and pre-register him, take his birth certificate, custody papers, insurance papers, all that. Dr. Sorenson is getting his allergy information. Don’t worry, Colonel O’Neill, he’s going to be fine. We’ll get through this.”

*

Daniel is up early the morning of the surgery, trying to tell me he isn’t scared. But I know him far too well; he is petrified. None of it sounds like any fun and the promise of all the ice cream he could eat afterward isn’t much of an incentive. But Daniel obediently gets ready, grabs the bag we packed just in case, although Dr. Chi had assured us that the chances of him having to actually stay in the hospital are quite small.

Mom and Dad are waiting in the lobby when we get there for our 0600 check-in and they immediately swoop on him, smothering him with hugs and kisses, walking around with him while I take care of the last minute check-in. The smiling nurse fastens a band around a ridiculously tiny wrist, and directs us upstairs to the waiting room.

In all too short a time, it’s time to go. I stand patiently waiting as the folks kiss Daniel and assure him they’ll be right here when he comes out of surgery. Then we follow the nurse down the hall into one of the out-patient bays.

Within minutes, Daniel is clad in a gown, has an IV in his arm and is being sedated. He’s asleep when the surgical nurses come for him.

“He should be back in about thirty minutes. We’ll come to the waiting room, let you know what’s going on,” she assures me. “Don’t worry, Daniel will be fine, we do good work here.” She grins as I give him one last kiss before they wheel the bed down the hall.

*

“Jack, it’s just his tonsils.” Dad says for what seems like the hundredth time.

Absently, I mimic Daniel, pulling the rabbit’s ear; the toy hadn’t been allowed in the OR. “I know, Dad. It’s just that Daniel’s been through so much this past year. And he’s just so little.” The funny thing is that I’m more scared now than any time I’ve ever sat by Daniel’s bedside. The adult Daniel was tough, much tougher than any of us ever really knew. But this, this is a very sick five-year-old who is ill-equipped to deal with what life is currently dishing out.

“And he’ll bounce back before you know it. Tomorrow he’ll be driving us crazy. So, how is this going to affect his schoolwork?”

“Probably not much. They’ll send his homework by email, he does it and emails it back. I explained to his teachers and Daniel’s in no danger of falling behind. He should be back in school in a couple of weeks.”

“You’ve done a good job with him.”

“Can’t take all the credit. He was like this when I got him.”

*

By the next afternoon, I wonder where the allegedly good kid has gone. Daniel is fussy, almost to the point of being whiny. He doesn’t want to stay in bed, he doesn’t want to take his medicine and he doesn’t want to eat any more ice cream. But mostly, he just wants to be left alone, which hasn’t happened since there has been a steady stream of company, from his grandparents to Sam and Teal’c, then Fraiser. Folks from his school and the day-care have phoned to check on him, not to mention some of the little monsters he’s buddied up with.

Since it’s raining, Daniel can’t go outside. He doesn’t want to watch TV or a DVD, he doesn’t want to play video games, and none of his books hold his interest. I’m not sure whose patience will expire first, his or mine; I suspect the kid can hang on a lot longer than I can. As it is, I just have to keep reminding myself Daniel doesn’t feel well and he is still scared. Plus the fact that he is just a little kid.

And right now, he is a little kid who isn’t on the couch where I left him. Telling myself there is absolutely no need to panic, I begin a search. 

I find Daniel in the last place I look, the last place I would have logically thought to look. There in my bedroom, curled up in the middle of my bed, wrapped in a blanket, rabbit clutched to his chest, silently crying, lies Daniel. Kneeling carefully, cautiously on the bed so as not to startle him, I ease myself down. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” comes the sniffled reply.

“I thought only women had inexplicable crying jags.” I observe, gently snaking my hand under the blanket, finding that narrow back, wincing at the bones I feel under my searching fingers. After this sick spell, the kid really will need fattening up. “Want to talk?”

“No.” The croaking voice sounds painful; obviously the crying has aggravated the already sore throat.

“Mind if I just sit here with you? You don’t have to talk or anything. Just relax.” My hand rubs circles on Daniel’s back like I’ve seen Sarah do so many times.

We lie quietly for a very long time, so long that I thought, hoped, that Daniel has gone to sleep. “I don’t like being sick.” Daniel announces petulantly. “I don’t like being a baby.”

“Well, you never did like being sick. And as for being a baby? I’m not sure you ever were. A baby, I mean. I think you were born old.”

“Michel used to say that.” He murmurs.

“Michel?” I start to rock Daniel with my hand, subtly, hoping to lull him to sleep.

“Michel. He was on a dig in Tunisia with my mom and dad. He was French, they’re very flamboyant, you know.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“He said I was born old. I didn’t know what that meant.”

“And now you do?”

“Some people are born knowing, if that makes sense.” Daniel mutters sluggishly.

“It makes perfect sense to me.” I keep rocking him. “You see, one of the problems with being you is that I don’t think you ever gave yourself permission to be a kid. I think you were so concerned about proving yourself to everyone that you never learned how to let go.”

He is silent for a very long time. “I’m not sure I know how to do that, to let go.”

I can feel his breaths lengthening beneath my hand, so I slow my hand to long strokes. “How about this time around you don’t think about it, Daniel, just do it. Just relax and let go.”

I sit there in the silence for a long time, just listening to him breathe.


End file.
